Curiouser and Curiouser
by Pierides
Summary: He was bleeding from the head and quoting Lewis Carroll. He had to be seriously hurt, Jonathan surmised, the man thought he was the Mad Hatter for heaven's sake! Yet this was only the beginning of Jonathan's journey with Jervis Tetch.


_(A/N): I suppose I should explain this…First you start with Jonathan Crane and then after talking about good, ol' Scarecrow with a friend of yours whose favorite character is Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, ideas start buzzing in your head. This is the result of all of that. __**Mushi6618**__, you are to blame for this…This is all your fault. But with that said…Enjoy and I'll get to reviewing your story soon!_

**(This story is brought to you by **_**mushi6618's**_** love of Jervis which inspired me and prompt #3, "Bleed" of livejournal's 50scenes community)**

_Disclaimer__: I may be confused as to how this came to be, but I am not delusioned into thinking I own Batman or any characters that come from that universe. All belongs to their respected owners.

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It was a typical night. This was where street flooded into street into concrete and destruction until everything was just a labyrinthine agglomeration of black, brown, and crimson. The products of the successful met the misery of the masses, until it formed a city that limped along, hardly functioning and yet, was ultimately and undeniably there. This was Gotham City.

Jonathan Crane stepped from the doorway of Arkham Asylum. He paused and placed his dark briefcase on the landing before pulling his wool overcoat tighter around him. He picked up his briefcase and gripped it tightly as he strode down the sidewalk, a minuscule figure in the shadows, he was quite aware. Nonetheless, though, he held his head high, in a manner only attributed to the citizens of the flawed city who walked with utmost caution and yet appeared confident.

His navy sedan was in sight when he heard a mumble at his side. He paused a moment, the sound repeated, a male voice. It was low, hardly discernible. Jonathan had every right to continue walking, to ignore the mumblings, but he didn't. Instead he turned to stare into the alley he had been passing, the source of the voice.

A man slouched against the wall, barely holding himself up. Jonathan took in his appearance calculatingly; it would determine if he took any further action. He wore a light, long trench coat, and was perhaps a head shorter than Jonathan with disarrayed blonde hair. Yet his presence didn't perturb the doctor. The dark liquid that stained his hands, matted his hair, and was apparent on part of his trench coat, however, did concern him.

"Sir?" Crane called, unsure what possessed him to speak.

The man stared up at him, gray eyes dazed. Jonathan slowly advanced towards him and watched as the man gave him a leisurely smile.

"If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." He spoke.

Jonathan stopped. "Excuse me?" That had made absolutely no sense, but it sounded familiar.

The man's smile grew pained as he tilted his head, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"The Mad Hatter," Jonathan whispered, recalling that particular quote. It answered nothing, though. The man, however, nodded absently and Jonathan noticed the blood dribbling down his cheek from his scalp. It was fresh and still flowing.

Perhaps it was horror at the realization the man had been brutally attacked, or awe that he was still walking despite the injury Jon was sure was substantial. No matter the cause, he was immobile for a moment and the blonde man continued to hobble towards him until his fingers gripped Jonathan's coat tightly.

"He is I, and you, you must be the March Hare." He laughed giddily, but even in his incoherent state he was pained. He soon stopped laughing and gritted his teeth, collapsing against Jonathan who was stiff as a plank, watching the man numbly. "What day is it?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, but the man suddenly went limp. Jonathan quickly grabbed him as his fingers loosened and he almost fell to the ground. He placed him gently on the concrete and proceeded to pull out his phone after checking to make sure the man still had a pulse.

"I need an ambulance sent to Amadeus Street, between the Asylum and," he looked around, "the old, Regions Hotel. I've found a man who has been mugged and beaten. Thanks. He seemed quite disoriented a few minutes ago, but he's just passed out. Yes, yes. Thank you." He shut the phone, relieved the ambulance was in route. He took the lag as an opportunity and searched the man's pockets for identification. He found it first in the form of an employee Identification card from Wayne Corporation.

Jervis R. Tetch. Then he found his wallet, but that only served to deepen the mystery of the man's appearance here. He lived across the bridge in the main city. What business did he have here? He was a Systems Engineer and technology specialist. Nothing about his clothing revealed any expectation to be in the alley. He appeared dressed up for a light dinner, not a waltz in the Narrows.

Jonathan shook his head, staring at the man, unable to stop himself from mirroring the man's strange behavior as it was strangely appropriate in the moment.

"Curiouser and curiouser!"

Distantly the wailing of a siren called. Jonathan sighed and straightened his posture; he dusted himself off and blanched in disgust when he noticed his own coat had become stained with blood where Jervis had grabbed him. He stared down at the man, confusion still gripping him

Little did he know it was only the beginning of a journey that could wind up taking him all the way to Wonderland and perhaps as far as Oz.


End file.
